I think I must have been ten years, when my mother suddenly decided to leave this world. I can not remember exactly what happened that night, but who cares? She's dead, gone, buried, and she will never return. But when she died, I was forgotten. She never really loved me truly, nor did she intend to make me believe in it. But why didn't she even care the least, of what might happen to me, after she was gone?

I still walk at the beach these days, hoping to see the last ray of light from the dying sun. It warms my soul and spirit so much, that all my sadness somehow dissapears, though it is only for a small amount of time, but God, it is worth it. People are so selfish and stupid these days, that they never understand the true beauty in what we truly have dear; like the sun. Has no one ever wondered why it is even existing? Of course they have, but it's more like a thing that's just there for them. It is our lifesource, our true mother, that keeps us alive, when anything else does not care. But the sun will always warm, and it is delightful to know, that there is at least one thing you can trust and believe in.

Oh, I am sorry...Here I am, raving about the sun and my dead mother, while there is still things of more importance to do. I am a homeless girl. Or young woman would be more correctly now. It must have been many years now since I left my so called "home", and I am not a child anymore. I don't know my exact day of birth, or wich year I was born, but I must have passed the 16 years of age now. I have seen the eyes of those men, crossing the streets, gazing at my body like I was some goddess of beauty. But I really are not! I am way to thin, my hair is black and filthy, and my eyes are pale and milky white. And I am a bag full diseases, infecting every living being I am being with.

When I was a small kid, I used to wonder why people lived at the streets, and some had houses, cars, and all the food they could consume. I had dreams, imaginations, visions of what a glorious and wonderful life I wanted, full of success and joy. Life was joyful, way back then. I had family, friends, everything a little girl could ever need...but they took it all away from me. I was left, all alone in this big, cruel world, full of politicians who controlled everything, and I saw...I saw. God forbid it, but my eyes saw, my mind was shocked, and my body collapsed.

I saw the killing.

It was in my hometown Aberdeen. It was ten O'clock in the evening, and I was headed for a hotel, begging for a room to sleep in as so many times before. Right as I turned the corner, I felt a cold metal blade prickle against my soft skin, and a husky and hoarse voice whisper: "Do as I say, girl, or lose that pretty face of yours." I froze. Not a muscle in my entire body moved, and the mans cold voice still ecchoed in my head and mind. If I could have fought back against him, I would have done so. But my tired frame battling his taught muscles, seemed so hopeless. I gave in.

I felt his breath upon my skin, stinging like poison. The seconds, minutes seemed so endless, as his face creeped closer. I could now feel his lips, burning as they met mine. I screamed, but my scream was muffled by his mouth. Freaked out of my mind, I felt his hands massage my neck slightly hard. It was horrible, and I started to wish he would get over with this, and slice my throat. But then, we were ripped apart. Another man had grabbed him by his neck, and yelled something I did not hear, while he threw the man who was assualting me, backwards. I ran off, completely out of mind. But at some distance, behind some old barrels the older children used to lit fires in, I watched the whole scene. The man who had rescued me, striked first. His fist flew before the other mans face, and made him fall backwards, again. While on the ground, coughing like a wounded beast, he got kicked in his stomach several times. I was shocked, and I knew that my mind had been damaged for lifetime, I now knew something new, I had learned another word: Violence. As the man on the ground slowly got up, I thought he had given up, and I think that was what the other man thought as well. There, I saw something even worse. Disrespect. As the man who saved me offered the wounded man his hand, to say sorry, the man just pulled his arm, and held the knife to his throat. I wacthed with horror in my eyes, as the man fell to the ground, mouth agape, his lifesource trickling as crimson pools of blood all around his dying body, from his wound. I cried; he was dead.

I know what you are going to ask me. "Can a child really live such a life?", or "How do you survive?". Well, I found out something very important, because of my life as a homeless:

From birth, throughout life, and until ones death, any person have some sort of gene inside them: The gene of survival. It will not appear out of thin air, just like that, but you can find it, or it will find you, if ever necessary. Live a life of emptiness, and if you think nothing really matters, then remember; You have at least one gift: The gift of being alive, and to know how to survive.

Sounds like a note from a school book? Perhaps. But ask any homeless guy or girl of this, and you will see them smile, give you no answer, and walk away. Only we know, and it will always be like that.